Yesterday was the last straw. Literally. And, well, figuratively, too, I guess.
I had performed Goat Beds & Heads again, but this time, there was too much to carry and (insult to injury) I kept forgetting stuff. To the shed with a rake; to the shop for hay; back to the shed with goat treats and… back to the shop for hay. Time to clean the shed. Where do I put the straw? Gotta carry it to the burn barrel – at the shop – in 4 different loads – in what????
I tried telling myself, “Self, you’re just accruing your steps for the day! EVERYTHING IS A WORKOUT!”
Then my husband asked for help with the chicken coop. Le sign. No huge deal, except he is even more forgetful than me in brining the supplies you need, AND he is world famous for never remembering where he put things.
Me: “Honey, where’s the __________?”
Him: “It’s in the _________________.”
Me: “Are you sure?”
Him: “Definitely, I put it there myself.”
Me (searches for ______ in the __________ ): “HUSBAND, it is not where you said it is. WHERE IS IT?”
Him: “Oh, I found it already. It was in my pocket.”
Yes, really. That’s how it goes. I’ve learned if he asks for something out of the tool bag, bring the whole damn tool bag, even though it’s probably not in the tool bag at all.
But walking miles upon miles everyday just as back-and-forth, I-forgot-________-again, mindless, feet-wrenching IDIOCY. It gets tiring.
So my ever-thoughtful husband brought me home this beauty.
We have a tradition in our family of naming vehicles after the person who sold it to you, so this is Donald. Fitting, as the model is The President.
I can’t decide what my bumper sticker should be…